


poacher's game

by winter_travels



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Kidnapping, no animals will be hurt in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_travels/pseuds/winter_travels
Summary: Springing a poacher's trap alone was not the greatest idea.
Relationships: Will Treaty & Tug
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	1. a ride in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoy this! the fic is complete, but different parts of it make sense for different days of the Febuwhump challenge so i decided to break it up into chapters. let me know what i could improve upon or what you like!

The sky had been grey for hours, but now the rain began; fat drops soaked the back of his jerkin and tunic in moments. Will had slung many a bandit over his saddle before, but had never been forced to ride with the blood rushing to his head and the hard pommel digging itself into his stomach, bruising it. The experience left a lot to be desired. The dozen hard-faced men had stripped him of his signature Ranger cloak and weapons, and he felt even more vulnerable face-down and tied like a hog. 

Will twisted slightly, trying to see what was ahead in the storm-dark afternoon. The horse’s rocking movements made the world spin around him in impossible colors. He couldn’t make sense of the road ahead – it seemed to widen and vanish only a short way away. He blinked, trying hard. Fog concealed the road, which was leading into a bigger traveling section. _Bad for kidnappers trying to conceal their prize._

A sharp grunt was all the warning he received before an elbow crashed into the small of his back, sending dizzying pain and nausea deep into him. He seized up, choking and coughing, then collapsed once more. His breath and pride were gone, and humiliation all that was left.

It was testament to how beaten-down he felt that he was surprised when the riding party stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. Voices conversed, and the party turned off the well-tracked road onto a smaller way. Grass blurred in his vision when he forced open his eyes, and their going was slower, now. He dragged in desperate breaths, feeling his lungs protest. Rain dripped down his neck and slid into his eyes and mouth, mixing with his frustrated tears. They rode for a while more, and eventually he lost all conception of where they were going and where they had gone. 

Halt would be disappointed in him. Halt would never have gotten into the situation he did, never would have overthought and underestimated his enemy to the point where they had lured him far from the watchful eye of Tug and Ebony and any hope of assistance. The men were experienced with field work – possibly the only people who could lay a trap so well even a Ranger couldn’t spot it.

Poachers.

Technically, Rangers didn’t deal with poachers – that was the king’s gamekeepers’ job. Will couldn’t fathom why they’d disguised themselves as a hapless bunch of highway robbers just to take him down. His cheeks burned. They’d been successful.

He stopped thinking after that, too.

****

A hand seized the back of his jerkin, yanking him up and off the horse and sending him crashing to the muddy ground. He awoke silently, his years of training drilling that, at least, into him. He had landed on his back, staring at the rain, and for a moment he wrestled with the urge to grin and joke that at least it was a change of scenery. He did not.

Rain fell into his eyes, obscuring most of his vision. Another man, different from the ones that brought him in, crouched over him. Straggly grey hair, a prickly beard, and a very long, very sharp knife that Will became aware of as it pressed into his throat.

“Rangers are rumored to be quiet,” Grey rasped, and the pleasure in his voice made Will’s stomach pull up and hide. “I think I’ll change that.”

There was no use asking, but he had to. He coughed once, trying to muster up a voice. “Your poaching operation. Did it go wrong somehow?”

Grey leered, and his lips stretched too wide and too thin. The knife pressed sideways into Will’s neck, and he looked for a moment down at it. Will couldn’t see, but he gathered from the awful sliding sensation that the knife had left a shallow line. Grey’s leer had become a smile.

“Take him away,” he said, louder, and rose to his feet. Will’s arms were bound behind his back, twisted awkwardly under him, and the man who had delivered him had to scrabble slightly to gain purchase. Grey colored, striking out with his foot. Will wasn’t sure which of the two he wanted to hit, but the kick crashed into Will’s bruised stomach and he doubled over with a soft hiss. That allowed the man to haul him upright, and since Will was so slight and short, he was nearly pulled off his feet.

The world swam, and he was sick. Grey stepped back with a disgusted noise, and gestured with his knife off to one side of what Will now realized was a large camp.  


“Welcome to Poacher’s Clearing,” Grey called as Will was dragged stumbling away. “I’m looking forward to us getting to know each other.”

 _One riot, one Ranger._ Will had to get out of this himself. No one was even aware that he had the stupidity to go after a poacher’s ring without backup. He had to make Halt proud - but he couldn’t bring himself to think of how as the world collapsed back into just the awareness of throbbing pain.


	2. sleep no more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the interest in this work!! i interpreted the prompt of "insomnia" quite loosely, and i did some stream of consciousness for a scene because i just couldn't figure it out. hopefully it will be okay :)

The camp settled down for the night, and the whispering onlookers who had stood a few meters from Will as he slumped forward with his hands tied firmly around a tree finally drifted off.

His hands were bound tight around a branch on the far side of the tree from him, and in the rain the rope had swollen so he had no chance of loosening the knots. That branch was fast becoming the bane of his life. It was too high for him to sit in the mud without wrenching his shoulders, and too low for him to stand. He crouched there, soaked to the bone, his muscles protesting. Will had plenty of experience staying in one position for hours, no matter the weather. It just usually was a position he had carefully chosen for its comfort.

The sky was still blanketed with clouds, and only the rapidly thickening darkness signaled that the sun had gone down behind them. The rain had slackened off to a drizzle, and Will forced himself to consider the situation at hand.

A poacher’s ring, far larger and more organized than anyone in the fief had realized. They had dressed up as highway robbers to lure Will into a trap, and now he was paying the price of his own overconfidence. Their camp was well-organized, with supply tents, a latrine, and plenty of guards patrolling around the place.

The night darkened. Everything was quiet; the rain finally stopped, and only the wind whispering in the trees and the low murmur of the guards broke the eerie silence. Will couldn’t doze off. His crouch was uncomfortable, and his mind spun with admonishments. Horace appeared, crossing his large arms. _You didn’t have the strength to fight them all off?_ he whispered. Will bit his lip. Evenlyn was next. _This isn’t the person I risked my life for in Skandia. You failed; think you’re so high and mighty, a Ranger, but you failed just like everyone else._ It was true – he had failed. Now he had to stay alive so that he could rectify that mistake. His head was fuzzy, and he couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t think of a way to escape.

Three forms moved in the dark, turning the corner around a tent and making their way towards him. He blinked, moving to press his back against a tree.

“Hello again, famous Will Treaty,” Grey said, his voice a harsh whisper. He stopped in front of Will, and the two others moved to flank him. “You’re going to tell us all about what you know of Poacher’s Clearing.” He left no room for refusal, and Will swallowed hard.

****

He came closer - I don’t know anything about Poacher’s Clearing - _I don’t believe you_ \- you should

_Continue,_ Grey said

and they did 

the two came at him hard - he flinched backwards spilling against the ground - they were upon him and the pain came in bursts 

not enough to blind at first, just a greeting of his nerves 

_Tell us what you know of Poacher’s Clearing_ and this time he didn’t say anything - just watched the water drip off the leaves above as they gave off the rain

dripping water like blood onto the soil

They pulled him upright the crack of ribs - the knocking sideways of his jaw - he shook his head - the pain sloshed about within his mind - I don’t know anything about Poacher’s Clearing

this isn’t about Poacher’s Clearing is it 

_No_ Grey said _unfortunately for you_

_it’s personal_

tied and helpless, it was the most personal the most intimate thing to watch the bruisers' faces 

they were impassive, professional, it was a meeting between two parties

and a power imbalance that left one bleeding and the other adjusting his cuffs

the leaves whined above them - he jerked in their grasp - biting through his lip breaking his palm with his nails - never never crying out never

crying out never

****

The night’s silence closed in on him again. Will let a mouthful of blood spill onto the ground. He tipped his head slowly back to lean against the trunk, the ground spinning around him, his arms begging for release from their position. 

Every tiny sound made him tense, like Grey and his strange sharp smile would step around the tree and whisper that he wasn’t finished.

He wouldn’t be sleeping that night. 

****

The clouds had cleared and the stars had come out before Grey visited again. Again, Will disappointed him by his silence, and again he took that disappointment out vicariously through his men. Will hated him for it. On a battlefield, nobody stood back and watched – Evanlyn proved that with her expert calls in the Battle for Skandia, even if it was the first time she had seen combat. Morgarath fell in single combat to Horace, and Will had the pleasure of killing the first Genovesan. Not many could escape Will’s arrows in any situation, but he was learning that he was fallible.

He considered the matter as they beat him, blood roaring so hard in his ears that he heard nothing else and retreated into his own mind. He hated the way Grey stood back, far enough to not besmirch his clothes with Will’s pain. Will couldn’t think of a way to challenge him, to maneuver him in a way that would put his honor on the line and give Will a chance to sink a blade deep within his chest.

At least the poacher became loquacious after a time, his amusement caught by the tiny whimpers that Will began to make.

“You killed my brother, a long time ago. You and that conniving worm, Halt.” His voice was sharp as a knife, sliding into Will’s heart. “Didn’t let him have a chance to defend himself, just cut him down with a cowardly arrow as he tried to make a living.” Bandit, then. It was cruel irony, probably of Grey’s design, that Will’s failed attack was also against highway robbers. Probably wanted to lull him into a sense of false security.

Will was just as cowardly as Grey was. He had stood back and begun to shoot, not bothering to announce himself to the group. It was only the surprise of a pitfall trap that had caught him, made him face the reality of his actions.

Disarmed, tied up, a few fingers probably broken. A fine Ranger he was turning out to be. His mouth was bloody again, too – he had bitten the inside of his cheek desperately to keep his terror within him.

“So, I decided to give you a chance to explain yourself. Screaming.” Will glanced up to meet Grey’s eyes – they were gleaming mad. He couldn’t look away, was frozen by the sadistic revenge that they contained. “I wanted to show you how much pain you put him through, and how I never did forget.”

_Never get involved in someone’s revenge,_ Halt had warned.

Will's hair fell into his eyes, snapping the spell and becoming sticky with the blood running down his forehead. He looked down, grunting from the renewed exertions of the bruisers. He couldn’t stay quiet anymore. The pain concealed all else, and his head was foggy and blank.

Whimpers became cries became shouts and sobs. With every sound that Will made, Grey stepped closer. Riveted. Until Grey had the bruisers slam Will against the tree and force him to look up with hands in his hair. Grey himself leaned close, pristine.

Will’s eyes were swollen mostly shut, and his chest heaved with gasps.

“You’re no better than us, and you’ll never sleep a peaceful night in your life with so much blood on your hands,” Grey whispered, smile wide and satisfied. “Couldn’t even keep quiet.”

Will spat, and dark blood spattered onto Grey’s chest, dripping down his clothing. He swore and leaped back, giving a furious order to beat the boy senseless, then turned and walked away, spine straight and furious. Will slumped back into the waiting hands. It hadn’t been the best idea, but he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Maybe he wouldn’t sleep soundly ever again, or get a chance to, but the dark was beckoning him now, and he gave up fighting it.


	3. two friends arrive

Will blinked awake – vaguely. He was sprawled out on the ground, his body screaming so much that it became another background noise to tune out. Dawn was coming, and people were moving about the camp again. The ground under him was wet, muddy, and red. He pressed his face into it, trying to smother himself.

He had become a Ranger to protect people against those who would do them harm. But in that came the need to do harm to others, especially those sword-brandishing felons who would kill their victims if they didn’t surrender their wealth fast enough.

Everyone who fought and killed had blood on their hands. But everyone who stood by and ordered people hurt did too.

Will had seen how almost losing Halt to the Genovesan’s poison had made him vicious and cruel, and he never wanted to hold that anger within him again. Grey had held it in him for years, at least, and now he finally had the chance to take it out on the object of his hatred.

Forget figuring out what the poachers were doing, forget feeding into the cycle of destruction by making Grey pay for his violence. Will needed to get out of this clearing before he lost his life.

The soil clung to his face as he raised his head, searching for some way out. Dawn wasn’t the ideal time to escape, as the light would only allow the poachers to see him more clearly. He couldn’t even consider staying here for the day.

Trees bordered the clearing, and they grew thick enough for cover, yet not enough for hard going. He scanned the trees – and froze.

A familiar face watched him from a few meters into the forest, dark eyes fixed on his broken body.

 _Oh, no._ What if someone saw Tug and thought he was one of their horses? What if they recognized him and wanted revenge on an _animal_ , the fools they were?

“No,” he slurred weakly. Tug’s ears pricked. “No. Get out of here. I can’t lose you too.”

The horse ignored his protests, picking his way silently towards him. And then he felt another presence: a cold, wet nose nudging into his hands. Ebony. She must have tracked him, or the poachers, leading her friend towards the man in their charge.

“No,” he said again, and then he couldn’t stop crying. The dog crept around to his front, whining and pressing her head into his chest. He coughed weakly, and the pain racked his body, but he forced himself to get his knees under him again. This lessened the pressure on his shoulders and made him hiss. A moment passed (or several).

Tug laid down behind him, and his fingers touched his saddlebags. _Oh, you brilliant animal._ It was probably accidental, probably Tug just wanting to be close to him – but he scrabbled with his good hand at the fabric anyway.

Experience had taught him that having a good knife tucked away in many places was invaluable, and it held true again. He pushed his wrists as far as they would go away from the branch, ignoring the way the rope chafed his damaged skin. His hand slid into his saddlebags, past the sack of coffee and other foodstuffs, to – _there_.

A tiny knife, only good for shaving sticks into kindling, but as sharp as his weapons. Slowly, he began to pull it up. His fingers were numb and bruised, and his heart thudded with beats that shook his whole body, making it hard to keep a hold on the knife. Ebony’s fur smelled of wet dog and grass. Tug’s breathing was a calm rhythm. They steadied him. He slipped the knife out.

Will made quick work of the bonds that held his hands, bracing the hilt against the branch and sawing upwards. A blossoming of new agony told him they were free. Moments passed as he struggled to get himself up, fighting nausea and the anger of limbs regaining circulation. He would have to massage them constantly, would have to reset his fingers quickly to have any chance of being able to shoot accurately again.

First, he had to get on his horse. Ebony pressed against his side as he dragged his knees one halting inch at a time around the tree. Will’s training fought the clouds in his mind. He made himself go slow. One inch at a time.

No shout of alarm was raised. He turned and lifted his head, his eyes mostly shut. Tug was there, so close and so _real_ , nuzzling him as he made his way to the saddle. Will was still crying, he knew that. Probably wouldn’t stop crying for days. He tended to push bad memories aside (didn’t think of the warmweed, didn’t think of the Wargal bearing down on him, definitely didn’t think of Halt’s small form wrapped in blankets and delirious), but he needed this one to stay with him.

The saddle was so close, and then it was there. He leaned against it for a moment, and the old bruises from the saddle pommel of the poacher’s horse reminded him of their existence. He braced himself with one forearm, avoiding his hands and fingers altogether, and awkwardly swung a leg over Tug. The little horse kept still, waiting.

It took a few attempts, and all the while alarm bells were ringing in his head and his breathing was getting more and more ragged. Finally, he found himself slumped over in the saddle, feet still dragging on the ground - but back on Tug.

“Up we get,” he whispered to his best friend, and the horse started to his feet. Will almost groaned, bit down on the collar of his shirt instead as the movement jostled him. It would only get worse. He nudged Tug’s side with his boot, steering him into the forest. He would have to trust Tug’s expertise, as he couldn’t see around him with his black eyes and it was all he could do to stay in the saddle.

Tug had never failed him, though, and he wasn’t about to start now. _Just hang on,_ Will could hear him say, and they moved off. Ebony trotted along beside them, scouting for danger. No one happened to glance up, and the few guards had already laid down in their bedrolls for the morning.

The trees engulfed them, leaving sodden ropes laying in a heap and a more innocent Will behind. His actions had consequences, even if they were in pursuit of justice. He could never forget that. But Rangers didn’t have to be the lone hero all the time.

Will leaned forward and patted Tug’s neck with his good hand. _One riot, one Ranger, and one Ranger horse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 7 - alt. 2 "i can't lose you too"  
> i hope you enjoyed my first complete fic!  
> cue horace and halt banding together to take down the poacher's + bandit's ring as will is recuperating, with their customary banter :)  
> then alyss makes new policy to aid those who don't have much, strengthening society and decreasing the impetus to rob people on highways, because she's great


End file.
